Chapter 12
Damiano
She’s anxious– Visibly so.
Sitting next to Echo as we watch people begin to hustle and take their seats for Luca’s funeral, I can’t help but look down at her knee, which consistently bobbles up and down while she nibbles at her fingernail. She’s been like this all morning. I’ve seen her continuously try to calm herself throughout the day, but she gets caught up in her thoughts and continues to make nervous actions.
Not that I blame her.
We’ve been together nearly three weeks, and she’s finally facing why she sought me out. Though I know I coached her, and she coached herself for this moment the last few days, being here is something different.
One, this isn’t the typical funeral.
A church has never been full of so many people willing to murder each other without a second thought, and it’s clear. From the Yakuza, Bratva, Mafia, and any other brotherhood that has managed to stuff themselves in this church, we’re all here at the demanding behest of The Council. One wrong move, look, or sound can set off a chain reaction nobody intends.
Tensions have been high for the longest time, and this might be the catalyst we need to end them.
It’s a great day to die.
Halting my thoughts, I look at Echo, who has moved to another fingernail. My eyes follow her trained stare, and I see she’s focused solely on Reynaldo De Leon. The older man, who doesn’t look much different than I remember ten years ago, is oblivious from where he sits next to one of Tommaso’s other Capos. While he had more hair ten years ago when he killed Echo’s family, he’s still the same ugly son of a rabid bitch. The capo he sits next to, Edoardo Costa, is another guy who undoubtedly had a part in her family’s demise. Quietly, they’re speaking with each other, unaware of the hatred that is emanating from her.
I could ask her why she’s staring so intently at Reynaldo. I could allow my slight jealousy that unearths itself only with her to come forward, but I don’t. I know something is different about the way that she’s watching him. I’ve seen that look before.
I’ve had that look before.
It screams calculation. Along with the contained fury I often recognize within her, she’s thinking something, or she’s about to do something.
Abruptly, she stands, and I look up at her. Her brown eyes reflect the inner turmoil that she’s battling. I move to stand with her, but she stops me. “I’ll be quick.”
It’s a bold faced lie, but I pretend I don’t know. “Vlad is going with you.”
She nods and starts to make her way out of the nave before I demand something else. I admire her confident steps, ignoring stares that show curiosity or disdain for why she’s with me. Vlad, who was standing in the back, is right behind her.
As I watch them until they’re no longer visible, I turn around and see the looks of disapproval from other families. I know they don’t like that I’ve aligned myself with Ilya and The Bratva. Many people don’t know precisely how long Ilya and I have been acquainted, but it doesn’t matter. After all that we’ve endured together and situations that we’ve pulled each other out of, there’s no other option for us.
“She’s sick?”
I turn to look at my uncle and nod. “She shouldn’t have come, zio.”
I stand by my prior choice. This is a bad idea. Not because I think Echo will break down and cry from seeing Tommaso, but because it is the opposite. I worry that she’ll be reckless and try to kill them. She’s expressed multiple times that she wants them all dead no matter what it takes or who has to pay. Her declaration has only been voiced to me, but how her eyes always seem to burn after she mentions it means more.
I know that she won’t stop until she gets what she wants. Anybody in her way be damned.
A part of me admires her and how far she has come to achieve it. Yet, the other part worries she will become so unruly that I will have to put her down myself, or my uncle will do it. He‘s old and dying but only cares for our legacy and empire.
And I don’t relish the thought of that.
She forced me to realize I was pulling away from her because I had taken a liking to her. If necessary, I will choose my life over hers—at least, I believe I will.
There’s no reason for me to be attached to her, right?
“Is she carrying your child yet?”
My uncle briefly looks at me.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
I really wouldn’t know. While I haven’t been with Echo long enough, in the last three weeks, it’s possible she could have gotten pregnant. I know at her previous appointment, right after her breakup with Blaine, she renewed her birth control pills, but I haven’t asked her if she’s taking them religiously. Any time we have been intimate, we haven’t used protection, and I made sure to always come inside her.
At first, it was simply to get her pregnant fast and ensure her safety. Now, it’s an obsession. I bask in the feel of her clenching around me. Her soft moans that she tries to withhold at the beginning of our fucking to gain control before she succumbs to her primal nature is incentive enough. Not to mention her eruptive drive that comes forth no matter how hard she tries to hide it.
I try to ignore the pulse in my cock that makes me get hard thinking about her.
Being with her is fucking impossible…… So is being without her.
Uncle Domenico looks at me as if he knows what I’m experiencing. I don’t doubt it. He went against his entire family’s wishes to marry my aunt despite she couldn’t bear him children. Even knowing the brute that my father was, he’d named me next Don without hesitation after my birth.
I wonder what will happen if Echo can’t have children.
Her body has gone through a lot of trauma in the last decade or so, and it would surprise me if she were able to have babies. There are other options, but that’s still a conversation I must have with her.
I make a mental note to schedule an appointment before we get married.
“Then I would suggest you ensure that she is before you give her liberties and expect no repercussions from those you don’t share loyalties with.”
Even as annoying as my uncle’s words are, I know they are true. Aldo and Tommaso want Echo dead for whatever reason.
Or they want her.
It's not like I’ll ever know exactly which one or why
Irritated that my uncle is being a repetitive pain in my ass and the funeral hasn't started because the Rossi family hasn’t shown up yet, I stand to find Echo. Some eyes fall on me, then turn back to the front as I leave. I turn down the hall and see Vlad standing outside the women’s bathroom. When his eyes fall on me, he moves away from the door and starts towards me.
“She’s throwing up.”
The accusatory look on his face bothers me, but I ignore it as he walks up the hall, giving us privacy.
He seems to have a soft spot for Echo, but I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s because he heard Gio and me speak of her history, or she always talks to him. Either way, I don’t like it.
Still frustrated, I follow Vlad down the hall with my eyes, then walk into the bathroom. A toilet flushes for Echo to appear a moment later. Her brown eyes move to me, and she rolls them, walking to the sink.
“I’m fine.”
I nod. “I see that.”
From the mirror, she watches me while she washes her hands. Scooping some water into her mouth, she swishes it around, then spits it out. “I took a pill on an empty stomach.”
I don’t bother telling her I know she’s not feeling well. After tossing and turning all night, she slept in, got up, and dressed. When I walked into the room, she’d been taking whatever pill she couldn’t stomach. I assume it had been something to help with her anxiety, but I don’t care to ask.
Stepping closer to her, the familiar smell of vanilla wafts into my nostrils. “Are you okay?”
Echo glances at me through the mirror, then turns around. I watch as she reaches into her purse, pulls out a mint, and easily pops it into her mouth. She braces her palms on the counter and leans back against it, her brown eyes assessing me. “Great. It wasn’t drugs, if that’s what you were wondering.”
I chuckle. “I didn’t think that.”
I invade her space, but since she’s leaning on the counter, I’m not as close to her as I’d like. “I thought maybe birth control or an anti-anxiety med.”
Her lips twitch. “It wouldn’t be all that effective if I were throwing up my birth control, now would it?”
I inch forward, inhaling that same scent as my brain tries to place where I smelled it before, but I figure it had to be the bar we met at. “I don’t want you on birth control anymore.”
“Yeah?”
Echo reaches out, running her fingers along the front of my suit. Her eyes stay on me. “You sure you wanna get me pregnant?”
“That is the goal eventually.”
She chuckles at my answer. She probably expected me to lie to her, but I won’t. There’s nothing worse than lying in my eyes. Omission of the truth is one thing, but flat-out lying is a disgusting trait.
My hand lifts to her hip, and I step closer. In response, she lifts herself onto the bathroom counter, which creaks from her sudden weight. “You know, crazy begets crazy.”
My eyes lower to her free hand that edges her dress up, exposing her thighs. Deftly, her fingers disappear beneath the material, and I watch her face go from a mischievous expression to one of want. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down softly until her head rolls back, her eyes closing. I see her wrist flex under her dress.
Quietly, I watch her work herself into a fit I know she can’t quell. The anxious energy she exuded earlier slowly dissipates as she teases herself into forgetting why we’re here. It’s crazy of me to stand here and allow her to please herself with so many people close by, but I’d give damn near anything to help her alleviate this tension.
I’m brought out of my head when a close-mouthed moan escapes her. She licks her lips, her eyes opening, and I can almost taste her desire in the air. A dark expression crosses her face, but she doesn’t stop touching herself. Her thighs widen, and she scoots back on the counter more as if she’s inviting me to join her, though she knows I won’t.
Fuckin’ tease.
I force myself to look down at the floor for a brief second to control myself. I want to bury my cock inside her right now, pound into her mindlessly until I fill her with my seed, alerting the entire church of what we’re doing– But I know that this isn’t about me.
With a mind of its own, my left hand closes over her hand that’s under her dress, molding to hers like a second skin. Echo’s eyes jerk up and meet mine, but she doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t fight me. Instead, I feel her relax into my grip to give me control. My ring and middle finger fit over hers and push inward. The instant that all four digits are inserted inside her, she lets her head drop forward on my chest. Her breathing hitches.
Allowing her to use my chest as an anchor, I set a rhythm in and out of her. Steady but rough, I move in and out, keeping her fingers trapped in mine. My thumb circles her clit, applying pressure that draws moans from her. On the counter, her hips start to move in sync with our hands, and her forehead, which is pressed against me, lifts. Her eyes are closed, but her lips beckon me, calling me to please her further.
And I do.
Eager to make her happy for a millisecond in our lifetime, I touch my lips to her plump ones. Her response is immediate, and she cries out when I press against the sensitive bud my thumb is still massaging. My teeth sink into her bottom lip, and I suck. The slight taste of her blood mingled with the mint she has in her mouth floods my taste buds, and my hand works double until I feel her tighten around our fingers.
“Let go, Bellissima.”
I coax her. My ministrations don’t let up, and Echo’s hips move faster, chasing the orgasm that she doesn’t want to let go of.
Her eyes pop open, and I see her vulnerability. Her free left hand grasps the lapel of my suit jacket, and she throws her head back. The moan-like scream she lets loose echoes through the empty bathroom, and I do not doubt that everybody in the church hears her release. Even then, I don’t stop. I grab her by her nape, entangling my hand in her curls, and yank her head back. My mouth attacks her neck in punishing kisses where I suck hard.
Marking her as mine.
Marking her for everyone to see.
Her cries grow louder as I suck while my fingers fuck her rougher, curving upward and stroking that ridge inside of her.
“Oh, God.”
Her grip tightens, and she pulls me in closer. Her breath skates across my lips before she presses them against mine again.
Her passion seems to meld with my control, and somehow, we both relinquish ourselves to a brief moment of forgetfulness. She comes on our fingers a second time. Her head is thrown back, her eyelids flutter, and animalistic groans, which I’ve never heard from her, come out. They spur me to continue my assault, reveling in her clenching pussy.
“Ah, fuck. Dami.”
Her moans vibrate around us, and my heart soars that other people can hear her testify in audible words that she’s mine.
I know she’s never come for Aldo like this.
My thrusting slows down minutes after her orgasm. The tension she’d exhibited is finally gone. Her breathing is labored, but not for the reasons that it was before. After a few seconds of centering herself, Echo opens her eyes, smiling at me. She pulls her hand out, forcing mine out, and looks down at our coated fingers.
I expect her to hop down from the counter. Instead, she wraps her soaked hand around mine and lifts it to her mouth. Painfully aroused, I watch as she inserts each finger into her mouth, sucking her essence off while her eyes stay planted on mine. Raspy moans meet my ears as she devours the juices. Her tongue and saliva coat them differently. When she’s done, she exhales deeply. A smile like the cat that got the cream spreads on her face. My hand is still tangled in her hair, and I use it to pull her forward again and taste her lips.
Tasting her– Us.
We pull apart when a nervous knock interrupts us. A smile spreads across our faces, and Echo bites her bottom lip again. I step back and reach out to help her down. It takes no time for her to lower her dress, and I fix my jacket’s front in the mirror as she reapplies her lipstick. Neither of us is in a rush.
We waited over three weeks for Luca’s funeral, and he’s not getting any more dead.
They can wait.
“Ready?”
Echo looks at me.
I nod. She takes my hand, kisses my knuckles, and walks to the door without warning. I grab the handle and open it for her. Nobody outside, like I suspected, but Gio stands to the left by the nave’s entrance with Vlad waiting for us. He chuckles lightly as we pass him, shaking his head, but doesn’t say anything. Eyes are on us as we return to our seats, aware that they know what happened in the bathroom, though they would never dare to say anything.
Across from me in another pew, Ilya gives a knowing smile, but it disappears when my eyes cast forward, and I see Aldo and Tommaso Rossi staring at us from the front row. Disgust is apparent on Tommaso’s face, but Aldo's eyes rake over Echo in long-lost desire, and he does nothing to hide.
Smugly, I touch her back and usher her into the row so we can sit down. Our stares don’t waver from the Rossis, and I’m proud of her for not appearing weak or concerned with them. I squeeze her hand gently, and she looks up at me. A smile greets me, and I’m unsure if I’m moved by the earnest emotion in her eyes or how my heart starts to beat erratically at the idea that I’ve given a piece of it to her.
I allow my lips to curve upwards slightly, then look back to the front at Aldo. The same expression of want and jealousy is on his face, and I’m satisfied to know that he will die before he ever gets the opportunity to touch her again.
She’s mine.